


take care of me, baby

by cumulus



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Kim Hanbin Is An Idiot, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumulus/pseuds/cumulus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanbin is an idiot with a sore throat and fever to match. Yunhyeong shows up in his slippers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take care of me, baby

**Author's Note:**

> for [#4, cold/flu](http://sugapuffs.livejournal.com/733.html). I WILL DEFEND THIS POOL NOODLE OF A SHIP WITH MY LIFE. i keep thinking about hanbin ditching during m&m and then only being worried about how yunhyeong was doing. song yunhyeong is a cinnamon roll of a person. title is from cassie. also posted [here](http://sugapuffs.livejournal.com/1028.html) on lj.

Hanbin blinks blearily at the computer monitor in front of him, swallowing around what feels like several sandpaper ping pong balls lodged part way down his throat. He must have fallen asleep (again). One of his earphones dangles down from his shoulder, the track still caught on loop. It’s an odd beat to have slept through: fast, intense, and perfect for their next dance showcase. Lately it feels like he could fall asleep in the middle of walking through a chaotic intersection in the middle of the city.

He rubs his eyes with the flat of his hand and rolls his shoulders as a drop of sweat trails down the small of his back. This room is too warm, and he feels like he’s wearing three layers of sweaters outside in the middle of August, but it’s barely mid-February. He peeled off his hoodie several hours back, leaving it in a gross heap in the corner of the room. 

“You’re an idiot, you know?” someone says from behind the back of his chair, too close. Hanbin’s attempt to hide the way he startles does more damage than the actual jump itself, sending his knee speeding into the underside of the desk. He cries out, rubbing at it, and ends up in a violent coughing fit, shaking over the keyboard as he tries to catch his breath. Belatedly, he realizes how dark it is. Yunhyeong has to squint against the monitor’s backlight, which is hopefully washing out the flush of embarrassment in Hanbin’s cheeks.

“Need to fix the chorus,” Hanbin says. His voice comes out scratchy, and his throat burns. _Fuck._ “The hook is all wrong…” He rubs at the back of his hair, and it sticks up stubbornly, full of sweat and old product from god knows when.

“I brought you some juk,” Yunhyeong says, instead of answering. “It has some leftover chicken in it, too.” He slides it onto the desk, right from his upturned palms, and Hanbin hadn’t even noticed him holding it. The handle of the spoon on top glints in the low light.

“Ah,” Hanbin says, tongue thick in his mouth, “Did the ahjumma upstairs…?”

“I did,” Yunhyeong says. He shrugs one shoulder, smiling with the barest hint of teeth. “Jinhwan said he heard your voice starting to go earlier, and I figured you wouldn’t remember to eat. You never do. Sorry it’s so late, but it took a while to cook.”

“Oh,” Hanbin says. He shivers, suddenly aware of the amount of sweat stuck to his skin. He can’t bring himself to look Yunhyeong in the eyes. “I—I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I wanted to,” Yunhyeong says. He moves his hands like he’s going to hook his thumbs in the front of the jeans he usually wears, but he’s wearing pajama pants. His feet are inexplicably still shoved into his house slippers, over white athletic socks. “It’s just juk, anyway.”

“I guess,” Hanbin says. It’s three thirty in the morning, according to tiny numbers in the corner of the screen. “Thanks.”

“Eat well, okay?” Yunhyeong says. “Try not to fall asleep in the chair.”

“Yeah,” Hanbin says, overwhelmed. He wants to ask why Yunhyeong even bothered, but his brain feels too foggy to think through an answer. “I wi—won’t?”

Yunhyeong presses the spoon into his hand. “I like your hook a lot, for the record. It’s good. Goodnight.” He leaves the room again, shutting the door softly behind him, before Hanbin can try to defend how much reworking the song still needs.

The condensation on the lid runs down onto the desktop, but Hanbin can’t be bothered to care. The juk is still lukewarm, and his throat still hurts, but he feels more awake than he has in days.

He lets the spoon hang from his mouth, shoves his second earbud back in, and presses play.


End file.
